Time Will Tell.

Sci-fi. Scarlett Ardor has superpowers- just like her best friend and worst enemy, Sebastian Rivule. Now living with Sebastian and his part-time mother ten years later, he's assigned as her Protector. Hormonal teenagers meet life-threatening decisions. Will their vast history prevail to save Scarlett, or will their differences and bickering meet her with her mother's fate? Or would they dare to wonder if their impulsive lust will askew their vision of the future?
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Chapters:

I played with my marshmallows on the marble counter: pressing
them down onto the cold surface and watching them slowly rise up
to their original form. I sighed. Like any other six-year-old
stuck with two gossiping mothers, I was bored out of my mind.

"Ten years." Squish.

"You don't have to, you can train, and-"

"I won't be strong enough."

I picked up another. Squish. "I'm a Hunter; I should be able to-"

"No, Sandra, it isn't your fault. It has to happen. I have ten
years left." Squish.

"I hate how it has to be you."

"It's because she's special." In mid-squish, I looked up at my
mother.

"Me, Mommy?"

Her glazed eyes seemed to look directly through me. "Honey, don't
play with your food. Eat it and go outside with Sebby." I
internally groaned. We were total opposites: he was a boy, I was
a girl. He had blue eyes. I had red eyes. Sebastian hated me. I
hated Sebastian. However, one look at my empty mother made me
deal with it.

"It's no good if they're not toasted," I gathered up my
marshmallows.

"Toast them when he's not looking." She blankly looked over to
Aunt Sandra. I hopped from the kitchen stool and winced when pain
shot through the ground into my ankles.

Sebastian was outside the glass door, frowning at a glass of
water. I quickly toasted the marshmallows in my hand and felt the
crispy outsides flake against my fingers, sticky hands grabbing
my sketchbook and heading outside to see him.

The heavy door shut, silencing the voices of our mothers, and I
sat across him on the pool table. I flipped open my sketchbook
and set the marshmallows on the opposite page.

"You can't draw if your hands are sticky," he muttered.

"And you can't draw at all, Sebby." I held back a grin at my
comeback. I was getting better at being sassy.

"Why do you have to come to my house?" He scowled, clearly
wishing me away.